The Monair Cipher
by DC Oskowski
Summary: When the Curator of the Fine Arts exhibit aboard the Cloud Nine is murdered, Gaius Baltar is called to the scene to decipher clues left behind by the victim to discover a shattering secret hidden for ages to protect Colonial Beliefs.


Gela Polyzalus, the curator of the Caprica City's Museum of fine art interplanetary exhibit aboard the Cloud Nine Luxury Liner struggled to his feet. The blood on his hand from his stab wound to his right side was now smudged against the exhibits main hallway. He had unwittingly left a trail of blood for his assailant as his unknown attacker still followed behind. Gela Polyzalus pulled himself against the wall as he tried to reach the main gallery. Above him hung a sign. Three arrows pointing in different directions, with one pointed to the right, entitled Pre Cylon War. Another pointed to the left, entitled Ancient Colonization and the third, pointing in the direction ahead of where the wounded curator stood. It was entitle Main Gallery, Curator Select. This was his desired destination. It was the only secured part of the exhibition from this point. Once there he could enable the security door to the room and lock himself within. There was no way his attacker could reach him. There was also no way he could call for help, as it was a completely sealed location. A demand he made himself when the exhibit area was built for its travel to the other colonies. It only stood 20 feet away, and yet for a man who has lost more blood then he cared to know, it might as well be twenty miles.

The exhibit had been closed for two hours now and every one who worked for Polyzalus had been sent home. It was just him, the artwork, statues that graced the make shift museum and his lurking attacker. Three months ago, Gela Polyzalus was thanking the gods he was aboard the Cloud Nine for this Caprica Fine Arts "road trip" to the other eleven colonies. He had originally rather had stayed on Caprica and kept the delicate artwork and sculptures within the Museum located in Caprica City. That thought was all but forgotten when the Cylons attacked as he soon found himself and the civilian fleet the Cloud Nine had joined under the protection of the Battlestar Galactica. His life was still intact, but more importantly he knew the artwork that traveled with him was now safe as well. The mere thought of what had become of the museum after the attack, was something he tried not to force upon himself. Almost two thousand years of artwork was now lost in seconds of the attack. The collection of artwork's mourning came only second to the poor souls who had nowhere to escape at the time of the Cylon act of genocide.

His memories of the other works not present and presumed lost forever had bided his time as he finally reached the main gallery, where the works of Caprica's great artist surrounded him. Each told a tale of Caprica's past and future. There was one of the most famous and youngest pieces of work amongst them. It was the depiction of a Cylon attack against joint forces of Caprica and Aerelon forces. With the two colonial flags representing both colonies flying high and intact above the rubble and smoke of the conflict, gave a reminder of humanities resilience that day. Rumor had it that Commander Adama had the second of the two originals of this painting in his quarters aboard the Battleship Galactica. There was a reason that there were two paintings, one commissioned by the colony of Caprica, the commissioned by Aerelon. _A man of great taste, _the curator thoughtof Adama It was one of Polyzalus favorites as well. All the work that was placed within the main gallery were the favorites of the curator, hence the sign, Main Gallery Curators Select.

Once he reached the main gallery he was able to activate the security door. The twelve-inch pane glass security door slid down over the doorway. Just before, Gela Polyzalus was able to sneak himself under closing security door and inside the main gallery.

The odd chose of glass to protect the priceless artwork was one of thoughtfulness kindness. With the security door closed it still allowed those who came by on days where the main gallery was not available to visitors. It transparency still allowed a glance within the gallery, to perhaps catch a glimpse of Caprica's artistic history. Another feature of this door gave comfort to Gela Polyzalus, as hundreds of pin size holes through the glass gave assurance that oxygen was not going to come as a premium. With oxygen not a problem, it was now only his wound still fresh from the earlier attack that was going to be the reason for his death.

His attacker now standing at the doorway looked in at the curator as he sat in his own blood attending to his wound. The brooding assailant stood there silently saying nothing. Polyzalus did not notice him at first. Knowing he was very well protected from his attacker now, he still pushed himself further up against the opposite facing wall from the entranceway to the main gallery.

The attacker was a young man that stood at an average height. His eyes were a cloudy dark brown. His stare was one with dark intent. He was there for a reason. Sent by the one person who knew the truth about him and still did not judge him for what he was. He did not realize the truth about himself till just a few weeks ago. Although he had shown signs, he tried to keep the truth from himself. He soon realized he could not fight the truth. He was what he was. There was no denying the truth of what he was or what he must do. Zephon Orestes had killed before. He was about to kill again. He was now true to himself.

The truth was what brought him here today. It was another truth he was to obtain and then kill Gela Polyzalus. He watched as Polyzalus attended to his wound. He knew it was in vain. The wound was deep and it was going to be impossible to stop the bleeding in time. The curator was a dead man, a dead man who had a secret of his own.

Before Zephon Orestes was going to get Gela Polyzalus to speak, he needed to gain access. It appeared to be an impossible task. The 12-inch thick pane glass door could only be open by a four-digit security code only known to Gela Polyzalus himself. Orestes eyed the door and then the security keypad next to the door.

Polyzalus watched as his attacker walk over to the security keypad. Knowing it was only himself that knew the code, he knew it would be impossible for him to enter. Gela Polyzalus could hear the young man with murderous intent enter in the random four digits on the keypad resulting in a failing reply buzz. _It is of no use the security code is locked up in here _Gela Polyzalus thought as he pointed to his head.

Zephon Orestes stood outside the main gallery. His first attempt of entering in the code resulted in failure. With a wipe of his brow, he thought of the same numbers as before but in a different order. He recalled when he was first told what the possible combination might be. It had a hidden symbolic meaning and a hint of the secret the old curator held. He entered in the four again, this time in a different sequence.

3 – 1 – 8 - 1

He received another buzz from the keypad, this one different from the last. He backed away from the keypad with astonishment as the glass door lifted to his amusement.

Gela Polyzalus glared over to the door in horror. _Impossible!_

Polyzalus became flushed with fear. Already fatally wounded, he could not imagine what would come next. He only hoped it would be quick. A possibility he felt was unlikely.

Zephon Orestes approached the flushed curator. He sensed the fear in the old man. His pale face spoke morbid tones. The secret was not be revealed. For two thousands years the secret never spoken, even within the order. Today would be no different. Unfortunately, regardless Gela Polyzalus was going to die tonight and that was the truth. It was by the command of The One, the only person who understood Orestes for who he was.

"The Kryptos Medallion, where is it?" Zephon Orestes demanded.

"I do not know what you mean?" Gela Polyzalus replied.

"Do not lie to me, I know about the others. They are all dead. You are the only one left who knows of its location."

Gela Polyzalus paused as he took a breath of pain. _Could it be true?_ Was he the last to hold the secret? He could not let it fall into the wrong hands, as it could be used as a source to gain power over what remained of humanity. There was only one, he trusted to pass on the truth. He needed to not give in. He had to continue to keep the truth a secret. Its location must remain a mystery. "It was lost amongst the others on Caprica."

"More lies. I know that the Kryptos Medallion is aboard one of the vessels that is apart of this fleet. Where is it now?"

Polyzalus could not believe he knew so much about something so secretive. Its existence only mentioned amongst scholars as a myth. Only he and the group he belonged to that had sworn to keep its actual existence a secret knew the facts. It appeared now that he and the others failed to keep the fact of its existence a secret. Regardless, he still needed to assume his ignorance. "I swear I do not know."

With a wincing stare Zephon Orestes leaned over Polyzalus. "We will see about that."

Orestes pulled out the blade that once penetrated the curator's side that seemed like ages ago to both men. The blood of the curator had since dried on the blade. Unfortunate for Gela Polyzalus it was about to receive a fresh coat.


End file.
